Courage
by LOTR-nutcase
Summary: Eomer and Lothiriel are being encouraged to marry by political advisers in both their countries. But neither party wants to settle down...
1. First Impressions

Author's Note: OK. New fanfic here so a new disclaimer. I don't own any of these characters, places, names, etc. and I'm not making any money off of them. Everything belongs to the genius Tolkien, I'm just corrupting his vision for my own pleasure.  
If anyone reading this has read Lady Lessons, be warned that this story takes place using a different timeline. It also deviates from the canon times and places found in the ROTK appendices. I think Eomer and Lothiriel are two of the best characters to write fiction about, Lothiriel especially, because their personalities are not too clearly defined in LOTR and can be tweaked to some extent. There's also not enough fan fiction about their romance. So go write one! But review this first. Thanks :)  
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It was hot inside the wagon. If Lothiriel had been allowed a say in the traveling accommodations, she would have opted to ride her horse, but as usual she hadn't been consulted. Fanning herself desperately, she stared wistfully out the windows, but she could no longer see the sea. In fact, they hadn't been able to for some time. All Lothiriel saw was mile upon mile of tall grass and light brush.  
Rohan wasn't a bad sort of country, she mused, if one liked wide open space and hot sun. She knew the Rohirrim were famed for their horses, and she was looking forward to examining the magnificent steeds that were sure to be found in the King's stables at Edoras. But for now she was stuck under the suffocating canvas with nothing to do but wish she were outside enjoying the breeze.  
From her vantage point by the window, Lothiriel was the first to see riders approaching. Some 15 horsemen were approaching the train and would soon overtake it. She squinted at the party. Though they were clad in the customary peasant garb of Rohan, their armor was of shoddily made wood and leather, and they wore masks across their faces. Lothiriel sat up straighter and leaned outside for a better look. No, they definitely weren't soldiers; who then were they? Bandits?  
Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard someone give the command to halt horses and make ready for battle. Lothiriel eagerly watched the proceedings through the gap in the canvas until the train's leader came by and pulled it shut.  
"Stay quiet, my Lady. You don't want them knowing you're in here. Everything will probably be fine, but if they overpower us..."  
"I'm not helpless, Captain..." she was speaking to no one. He had raced off to join the soldiers she assumed were preparing to defend the train. Lothiriel glowered in the stifling semi-darkness of the wagon. Once again, she was to be shut off from all the excitement.  
She stewed for a few moments, but was jolted out of her reflections by the cries and metal clashings of battle—the skirmish must have started. Goodness! She thought. It's right outside the wagon! Perhaps I could just open the window a tiny bit to see... Lothiriel heard a grunt and a wet thud. Then another, and another. Though she'd led a sheltered life, she knew the sound of a sword slicing through flesh when she heard it. Oh, why did father have to go on ahead? And why on earth did he leave such a small retinue with me? The poor soldiers—no one was expecting this! What will I tell their families?  
In a matter of minutes, it was all over. Lothiriel could hear the triumphant jeering of the outlaw Rohirrim. A man with a low, raspy voice gave orders to tie up the prisoners and begin searching for valuables. Lothiriel frantically dug through the baskets surrounding her...where had she left it...aha! She slipped a long, thin dagger into her sleeve.  
She did not have to wait long to be discovered.  
The canvas was ripped apart. A harsh, leering face with a large nose peered into the wagon.  
"Oh, ho, boys. Lookee what we've got here!" Lothiriel was dragged outside by a pair of rough hands. Blinking in the suddenly bright light, she observed the situation as the bandits gathered around her. There were 13 of them, in various disreputable-looking costumes that made their profession obvious. Most were holding bloody swords or spears. She grimaced at the sight of her own soldiers of Dol Amroth lying dead or wounded on the ground. Seven men in the blue and silver tunics of her city were sporting bound hands and feet, but she counted at least two dead outlaws. Good! she thought icily. At least they didn't go out without a fight. And I won't either Suddenly determined, she raised her chin and glared defiantly at the man who had pulled her outside, judging him to be the leader.  
"Who are you, missy? And what's a pretty thing like you doing riding out in the middle of nowhere like this without ..." the man laughed "decent protection? Your soldiers have failed you, so it looks as though you're stuck with us. But don't worry, the boys and I will make you most welcome." He looked her up and down evilly. Lothiriel's anger boiled up and she snapped words before she could stop herself.  
"The only place you'll make me welcome is at your execution."  
The men laughed uproariously at her fury. "And how will you be managing that, wench?" The leader spread his arms and looked from side to side with a leering grin. "There's a dozen of us, and only your lonesome self against us."  
"But I can count. Might I know your name? I'll be only too happy to report it in the Afterlife, then maybe you'll be struck by lightning." She was unable to contain her sarcasm.  
"Oh, we won't kill you yet, missy." The man winked at his companions. "Will we, boys?" He lowered his voice and spoke disgustingly close to her ear. "I'll keep you all to myself if you promise to behave."  
Lothiriel jerked her head away from the man and spat in his face. With speed and strength born of rage and long practice (though her father didn't know about it), she slipped the knife from her sleeve and slashed the outlaw leader roughly across the face. He fell back with a cry of surprise and pain.  
There was a brief moment of confusion as he was helped up by those of his followers not trying to subdue the struggling Lothiriel. She fought with all she had, but she was no match for the bandits. Soon she found herself bent over slightly, facing the bleeding, enraged leader with her arms pinioned behind her back by one of the outlaws. Another yanked her head back by the hair so she was staring fully, helplessly into the leader's face.  
"Now you'll face the wrath of Gailith, brat." The man raised his fist to cuff her across the face, but just before he touched her he was thrown to the ground with a spear through his belly. Lothiriel gaped.  
The second battle was over as quickly as the first. The outlaws were slaughtered mercilessly and the soldiers of Dol Amroth were released and their wounded tended to. It wasn't long before Lothiriel found herself face to face with their rescuers' leader.  
He was a good deal more appealing to look at than Gailith had been. Green-grey eyes were set into a pleasing, very masculine face. The soldier removed his helmet, revealing shoulder-length golden-yellow hair and a stern expression. He was several inches taller than Lothiriel, she judged him at slightly over six feet, all clad in shining armor. He bowed to her.  
"I am Eomer of Rohan, Lady. I apologize for your troubles traversing this land. I thank you, however, for giving us the opportunity to end the thieving days of Gailith the Bandit, who has been running amok in this area for too long." Goodness, the man even had a pleasing voice. Lothiriel curtsied.  
"And I thank you, Eomer of Rohan for your timely rescue. You shall henceforth have my gratitude and that of my men."  
"Might I have your name, as well, Lady?" Lothiriel was slightly flustered. Her name! How could she forget her own name?  
"L- Lothiriel, princess of Dol Amroth. My father is a guest at Edoras, I go to join him." The man smiled. Lothiriel was momentarily distracted by the flash of white teeth. Then she realized how simple she must sound. Eomer of Rohan! KING Eomer of Rohan! Oh, good grief! How on earth could I have forgotten Eomer is the name of the king?  
Well, so much for first impressions. 


	2. A Little Character Insight

Author's Note: If you haven't guessed, I wrote chapter one without a clear idea of where I wanted the story to go. Now that the main characters have met, I STILL don't know where the tale is headed. ;) Bear with me, I'll think of something... Disclaimer: I own none of these character, dates, or places; they all belong to JRR Tolkien.  
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Eomer studied the woman's face, thinking that she was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Not the loveliest female being—Queen Arwen of Gondor would have to take that prize, followed closely by Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien—but by far the most attractive human girl he'd seen in a long time. Long, dark auburn hair was braided and wound around the back of her head. Her skin was pale (if she stayed in Rohan long, he thought, she would get freckles), her features aristocratic, but it was her eyes that drew his attention. Huge, dark blue—indeed, nearly purple—irises trimmed with long black lashes peered at him from under delicate brows. He was pleased that she was tall. It grew ever more annoying to have to stoop down to hear the whisper-soft words of the foreign courtiers his advisers were always shoving him at. The woman's figure was excellent, neither overly slender nor overly plump.  
  
What was he doing? Good grief, he was examining her as though she were a horse. Chastened, Eomer asked for the lady's name.  
  
"L- Lothiriel, princess of Dol Amroth. My father is a guest at Edoras, I go to join him." Eomer noted that she had stumbled over her own name. She must be more shaken than she appeared to be...  
  
Her name. Lothiriel! Dol Amroth...Imrahil! What irony! Eomer had fled Edoras to postpone meeting Imrahil's daughter—and yet had only managed to bring about the inevitable event sooner. He knew that the politicians of Dol Amroth and Rohan all wished for a marital alliance to strengthen the bonds of friendship between Gondor and the Riddermark, but the idea of marrying one of Gondor's twittering, witless maidens repulsed him. Of all the ladies he'd had shoved at him so far, only two had shown real spirit. One was the Queen, and hadn't been shoved at him at all, the other, much to Eomer's private amusement, had run off with a young peasant farmer.  
  
Lothiriel was stammering something again, so Eomer brought his attention back to her.  
  
"I do apologize, milord, if our plight was any inconvenience for you...I'm sure we can make our way to Edoras safely now..." Eomer raised one eyebrow. Was she dismissing him?  
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Lothiriel fervently hoped the king would leave. His gaze was unsettling, her embarrassment at being caught in such an unladylike situation (oh, her father was going to kill her!) refused to subside, and she was just sure she was sweating. According to the Elves at Rivendell, true Ladies didn't sweat.  
  
Well, let them come ride in a stifling wagon all day long, be attacked by bandits and then confronted with the man they're supposed to be charming with grace and ladylike wit. I wager even Galadriel would sweat a bit then! Lothiriel waited for Eomer's reply.  
  
"No inconvenience at all, Lady Lothiriel. This band of ruffians needed to be dealt with. And your father will undoubtedly provoke a war if I allow you to continue your journey unescorted after such a distressing occurrence. Your soldiers are mostly useless, so my Riders shall accompany you as well." Eomer smoothly disregarded her dismissal. Drat! Now what? There were no instructions in any of the etiquette books she'd reluctantly read to deal with this situation! She'd just have to improvise.  
  
"Well, if it's not any trouble, we would be glad of your assistance, milord. Is it far to Edoras?" Lothiriel knew very well they were only a few hours from their destination, but she was attempting to keep some sort of conversation going.  
  
"An hour's swift ride, three or more traveling as we are with wounded. We should be off soon if you want to be inside by nightfall." Lothiriel nodded emphatically. The sooner they left, the sooner she could escape to the privacy of her own chamber and collect herself.  
  
As they prepared to depart, Lothiriel seized the chance to ride outside rather than in the wagon. She chose the point in the party farthest from Eomer, and stayed there. It was a long, slow ride, because of the wounded men, and she passed the time by remembering her father's instructions to her.  
  
She was to enchant the King of Rohan with her charm and manners. If he were to offer a suit, she had been strongly encouraged to accept it. Her father might be overprotective and slightly domineering, but he would never force her into a marriage she did not want. Nevertheless, Lothiriel knew that it would be the best thing for both countries if she and Eomer were to wed. She knew this, knew all the reasons why she should encourage a union, but had no intention of doing so.  
  
This was not Imrahil's first attempt to arrange a politically wise marriage for his daughter. Lothiriel had over the years perfected a method of being friendly but cool, encouraging enough to make it seem as though she were considering the man, but aloof and distant enough to soon dispel any interest the suitor might have had in her. A lesser Haradrim king, one of Gondor's nobles, and even the leader of a politically dissenting party in Dol Amroth—she had escaped them all. Eomer, she thought, would be no different, despite his early introduction having thrown her plans off.  
  
A sudden cry interrupted her thoughts. Turning, she saw that one of her wounded soldiers was in danger of falling out of the wagon. The others, incapacitated as they were, were having a hard time holding him in. Lothiriel wheeled her horse and rode up beside the wagon. Handing her reigns to a nearby Rohirrim, she clambered awkwardly onto the conveyance. She hiked up her skirts, pulled the soldier back onto the cart, and proceeded to re-bandage his now-profusely bleeding wound.  
  
"One of my men can do that. There's no need for you to tend to him." Eomer's voice sounded slightly concerned as he rode along beside them.  
  
Valar save her from men who thought females should be delicate and sheltered. Forgetting her intentions of grace and charm, Lothiriel snapped at the King.  
  
"Nonsense. I'm just a capable as bandaging a wound as any soldier. Men hurt each other; women patch them up. Is that not the way of the world?" Eomer's sudden grin irritated her even more.  
  
"Nay, Lady, for a woman can with her tongue strike a hurt more deep than any man's sword, and such a wound can only be healed by the one who gives it."  
  
Lothiriel replied, slightly chagrined, "I apologize if I was rude, sir." But she would not yield entirely. "Yet a man may also kill with words." She turned back to her task. Eomer rode on.  
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When they finally reached Meduseld, Lothiriel was covered in sweat, dust, and blood. Her father ran outside to meet her as the soldiers dismounted at Lothiriel allowed herself to be lifted down from the wagon (and her ridiculously uncomfortable seat there) by a kind soldier.  
  
"Elbereth...what has happened? Lothiriel, are you all right? You're hurt!" Lothiriel tried to calm her father.  
  
"No, father, I'm fine. We were waylaid by bandits, but the arrival of a company of Rohirrim saved us, and King Eomer very kindly escorted us here. Now if you would show me to my room? I'm quite fatigued..." Hoping to forestall further questions from her concerned parent, Lothiriel allowed her tiredness to show.  
  
"But of course, my dear. You must have a hot bath and a nap before dinner."  
  
Dinner? "Oh, father, I'm not sure I feel up to—"  
  
"Nonsense, Lothiriel. A few hours' rest and you'll be fine. The staff has gone to a great deal of trouble to prepare a banquet for your arrival; you wouldn't want to disappoint anyone, would you?"  
  
Deciding that a protest probably wasn't worth the effort, Lothiriel allowed herself to be conducted to a small, cozy room on the western side of the Hall. A brilliant sunset streamed in through a pair of windows, illuminating a bureau carved with a hunting scene, a large fireplace, and a huge bed canopied with dark green brocade.  
  
Lothiriel threw herself onto the soft mattress and slept. 


	3. Dinner

b Author's Note:/b (If HTML tags show up, just ignore them. I'm trying to figure out how to format my updates...) Ahem. Standard disclaimer here. I own nothing, Tolkien owns all, etc. A big thanks goes out to everyone who has reviewed, especially those of you who have left reviews more than once! I love you all, thank you SO much! I'm switching to first person for this chapter, to experiment. I think it might be easier to "get into the character" that way. Let me know which you prefer. :)  
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I woke some two hours later, feeling at once refreshed from my nap and horribly grimy from sleeping in my clothes. It was dark by that time, but a maid had lit a fire, in front of which stood a copper tub filled with nice warm bath-water. I allowed myself a good soak, washed my hair and let it dry in front of the flames.  
  
In general, I put off the moment when I would inevitably have to start up my "proper-lady" charade, as I call it.  
  
It occurred to me that by seeming especially frigid and proper tonight, I might forestall any future overtures from Eomer. So I chose to wear a high-necked navy blue dress with virtually no trimming whatsoever, and wound my hair up in a serviceable but un-decorative knot. I composed my face into a prim, emotionless expression, straightened my back, and stepped briskly into the hallway.  
  
The bedrooms of Meduseld are located quite close to the Hall, so I didn't have far to travel. A short jaunt down the torch-lit hall, down five stairs, and I found myself standing in a small shadowed archway looking out onto the dinner arrangements of the Rohirrim. There seemed to be no formal seating chart: everyone simply moved around as they felt the urge to. I witnessed one Captain travel from the seat to the King's left down to the foot of the table to speak with a soldier there, then settle somewhere in the middle. They made room for late-comers and took over the vacated spots of others as they finished. The doors of the hall had been thrown wide open to allow access to a huge roasting spit located nearby. Goodness! iThey're cooking enough to feed an army!/i I thought. I looked around again and realized that they were, in fact, feeding their entire army. Or most of it.  
  
My father spied me from across the room. He beckoned to me. I approached him, duly noting the two men he was speaking to. On his right stood a tall, thickset man with shrewd, intelligent eyes and an honest face. He bore the symbols of a Rohirrim Marshall. Next to him, a slightly shorter, thin man sipped a goblet of wine. This man was more opulently dressed than the first, and having grown up amongst soldiers in times of war, I could tell he was no military man.  
  
"Feeling better, Lothiriel?" I nodded politely. "good, good. Then before you go eat, let me introduce you to two of Rohan's finest." My father gestured to the Marshall. "This is Heaghir, third Marshall of the Mark, and cousin to the King." The man nodded. Father continued, "And this is Wyn. He is Eomer's counsel of foreign relations."  
  
"Wyn's eyes twinkled. "We do not use such formal titles in Rohan, my lady, I am merely a friend of the King's with no aptitude for the sword and a talent for understanding the cultures of other countries. But let me be the first to extend Rohan's pleasure and honor at housing with us such a beauty as yourself." Smooth, I thought. But why is it men always praise beauty before they even hear a world from your mouth? From my father's method of introduction, I guessed that these two were the men he would be dealing with during Eomer's reign. As such, they were partially responsible, no doubt, for my sacrifice on the altar of political stability. I decided to play the Haughty Princess with them as well as the King.  
  
Nodding lightly, I said absently, "the pleasure is mine, sir." Heaghir took the opportunity to speak.  
  
""We do hope you will enjoy your stay. I know how boring political talks can get." Here he rolled his eyes at Wyn. "So please, don't hesitate to explore the grounds and stables to your heart's content."  
  
"It was a pity I was present under such annoying circumstances, otherwise I might have liked these two men and enjoyed my first trip to Rohan. As it was, I forced myself to keep everyone at a businesslike distance. Growing fond of Eomer's inner circle would only make it harder to keep a wall between us.  
  
I refused to be lulled into informality by Heaghir's thoughtfulness. "I thank you for your kind offer, Marshal Heaghir, but I find that your harsh sunlight and wind here dry out my skin. I shall probably spend my days indoors." Father frowned at me. I merely gave him an innocent smile. "If you will excuse me, gentlemen?"  
  
Pasting an expression of serene dignity on my face, I glided over to the table and found a seat near the center. I helped myself to various dishes of venison, beef, and pork, all washed down with an excellent wine that I recognized as one of Dol Amroth's finest. It must have been a gift from my father to Rohan.  
  
Since I didn't think anyone was paying much attention to my conservatively dressed self, and because I was famished, I allowed myself a particularly large bite of roast beef and began chewing rather strenuously on it. I nearly choked when I heard Eomer's voice next to my ear from behind my back.  
  
"Good evening, Princess." He sat down next to me.  
  
It's hard to play the Ice Princess when you have an unladylike mouthful of meat. I hastily finished chewing and swallowed, wincing as the too-large bite went down.  
  
"Good evening, Lord Eomer. I beg your pardon—"  
  
He waved my apology aside. "Not at all. Here," he forked some potatoes onto my plate. "We didn't stop to rest on the way here, so you're no doubt starving." I blushed. I hate it when I blush, but it's a curse that comes with pale skin.  
  
"Thank you." I took a small, ladylike bite. The potatoes were baked with garlic and butter—delicious. No doubt at this point my father would have liked me to make polite conversation. I had no intention of encouraging anything, so I was silent. After a short interval, Eomer cleared his throat and said,  
  
"I trust you found your room comfortable?" I nodded. There was a brief, awkward silence. I wasn't looking at him, but I heard Eomer sigh quietly. He stood up.  
  
"Good night, Princess." He walked away. A slight ache made itself known somewhere in the vicinity of my heart. Was I feeling guilty? Guilty for what? It was my life, and I was determined not to sell myself short by marrying for political reasons, or to make my father happy. I would spend my life alone, painting the sea and writing songs about it. Still...it was a shame that Eomer was so nice. If I had met him on neutral territory, under normal circumstances, I would have been myself. And I bet he would have liked me—for me, not for some farce of perfect etiquette I put on for state visits such as this one.  
  
Suddenly I wasn't so hungry. Pushing my plate away, I stood up and walked out the open double doors into the warm night. A gentle breeze was blowing, and the starts were magnificent. With few trees around, I could see every constellation brilliantly. Walking away from the crowd around the fire, I leaned against the side of the building and stared at the sky.  
  
"I don't understand, Wyn. This afternoon she seemed so...lively. Spirited, even. More like my sister than any other woman I've met. And yet, as soon as we arrived here she withdrew behind that Perfectly Polite Princess face. Ah, well. I should've known it was too good to be true." I recognized Eomer's voice coming from around the outside corner of Meduseld. Obviously, they were talking about me.  
  
Wyn replied. "Her face, prim though it is, far outshines any other eligible Gondorian maid's. Can't you just wed her, produce an heir and be done with it?" I seethed. To think I had liked Wyn!  
  
Eomer laughed once, coldly. "The country's purposes would be served, no doubt, but what of MY life? You forget that I have to live with her for the rest of it." I should mention that I have no qualms about eavesdropping, if the speakers are careless enough to converse where anyone may overhear them. "I am not yet so much a king that I would throw away my own happiness simply to strengthen already existing bonds between two countries. I keep telling you, a marriage between Gondor and Rohan is completely unnecessary!"  
  
Wyn sounded annoyed. "The political niceness may be unnecessary, I'll give you that. But, Eomer, Rohan needs an heir! There are still small enemy forces to be rounded up, battles to be fought; we are not yet out of the war! What if you should fall?"  
  
"Then my sister could—"  
  
Wyn snapped. "Your sister is married. She belongs to Gondor now. Her children will be Stewards, not Riders. Marry some stable lass, if you want to cause scandal, but marry /i, I beg you." I heard Wyn stomp off.  
  
Having heard more than enough, I walked back inside the Hall. So Eomer didn't want to marry any more than I did. Wonderful! I should have been thrilled...and yet I wasn't. For the first time, I felt the urge to cast off my charade and be Lothiriel again. The idea that Eomer found be unappealing was strangely troublesome to my mind.  
  
Shaking my head, I went to my room. 


	4. Pride Cometh

AN: OK, obviously the HTML tags didn't take. How do I add bold/italic fonts?!? I may have to break down to read the FAQ, or something...:P **Insert standard disclaimer here** Kudos and thanks to all who have reviewed! I love getting the mail ;)  
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I managed to keep my act going for a week. Although I knew I would slip at some point, I hadn't expected my mistake to come as soon as it did. As usual, my pride—and my temper—was my downfall.  
  
The momentous day began with the arrival of Eomer's sister. Eowyn and her new husband Faramir, my cousin, had come to Rohan for the birth of their first child. When my father told me this I was curious, because it was usual for babies to be born in the country they would be raised in. He explained, chuckling all the while, that when I met the eight-month pregnant Shieldmaid of Rohan, I would understand why her husband had bowed to her wishes. Evidently it wasn't a good idea to argue with her.  
  
I was thrilled to be seeing my dear cousin again, and to finally have the chance to meet the woman who had stolen his heart. Waiting in the great Hall, (my charade wouldn't let me run outside to greet them) I watched them arrive. Faramir was looking as handsome as ever, travel-weary though he was, in his dusty embroidered tunic and cloak, but Eowyn immediately captured my attention.  
  
She was wearing a loose blue maternity gown, which failed utterly to disguise her advanced pregnancy. Her hair was lovely and golden, but she had it wound sloppily around her head, presumably for convenience during the journey, giving her the appearance of wearing a small yellow turban. What caught my attention, though, was the familiarity around her—something in her manner and bearing caught my notice. It seemed almost that we were distant kin. (Which, technically, we were. But only by marriage.)  
  
Eowyn called to her brother across the room. "Eomer! We're here! Come and let me see you, it's been too long!" the King bounded across the room to embrace his sister, and glare at Faramir.  
  
"I ought to beat you for getting her in this condition." He growled.  
  
Faramir only rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you again, too, brother." He said, stressing the 'brother'.  
  
Eomer had to laugh. "Eowyn, do you need to rest, or anything? It must have been a hard ride..."  
  
His sister snapped back at him. "I'm pregnant, not dying, Eomer. I'm just fine. If anything, I need a good long walk through the stables; I've been sitting in a wagon for days, because my over-protective husband wouldn't let me ride a horse." Eowyn glowered at Faramir.  
  
He replied quite casually. "You knew very well that that was one of the conditions of coming to Rohan for the baby's birth. No risks whatsoever on the journey here.  
  
I gathered that they'd had this argument before.  
  
Introductions to my father followed. He spied me in the shadows at the edge of the room and beckoned me over.  
  
"Lothiriel! Come and meet your new cousin!" he called. I adjusted my high-necked, ugly-though-impeccably-tailored dress, and walked serenely over to the group. My father presented me to the couple. I nodded politely to them. Faramir raised an eyebrow at my uncharacteristically-quiet greeting, but said nothing.  
  
Eowyn studied my face intently all through the introductions. I finally escaped to my room after a suitably polite interval, gratefully loosening the neck of my gown as I headed back to my sketchbook and my window.  
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Late that afternoon I snuck into the stables. My face was veiled and I was wearing a peasant's garb in case anyone saw me, because the Perfectly Prim Princess of Dol Amroth wouldn't be caught dead in a grimy old stable. Despite my fondness for sketching, the boredom of sitting inside, alone, all day was getting to me, so I risked a sojourn outdoors.  
  
I was inside one of very few empty stalls examining the wood-carving (The Rohirrim arguably treated their horses better than they treated themselves) when I heard voices. I recognized Eomer and Eowyn immediately.  
  
"So, brother, I sense an attempt at an arranged marriage is happening here. What think you of Princess Lothiriel?"  
  
Eomer snorted. "It's what the ambassadors want, not I. You met her—how could I possible marry such a cold, stiff woman as that? Talking to her enough to simply be polite is bad enough—imagine trying to bed her! I don't understand. I saw her cut the face of an outlaw hassling her, then she had the spirit to harass me for being a soldier...but that spirited girl disappeared before I had the chance to get to know her, and now I'm stuck with the Ice Maid of Dol Amroth."  
  
"She does seem that way, doesn't she?" Eowyn sounded thoughtful.  
  
"What do you mean by that?"  
Now Eowyn sounded amused. "I mean, dear brother, that if you would open your eyes a bit you'd see that it's all an act! She's rather like I was before I met Faramir...scared to death of winding up chained to someone or something she hates. So frightened, in fact, that she's putting on an elaborate pretense of cold-heartedness to keep you from offering for her. In fact, I'll bet you anything she's done it before."  
  
"Well, she needn't worry. I wouldn't marry her if she was the last woman on earth, now. Wait till you see her at dinner. The butter won't melt in her mouth, I guarantee it." With that, Eomer and Eowyn continued on past the stables.  
  
I was incensed. Frightened! Me, Lothiriel, princess of Dol Amroth, daughter of Imrahil, frightened? Of a mere man? Never! How dare they say such things about me? I wasn't afraid of anything, I told myself angrily, and I would show them.  
  
Famous last words.  
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	5. The Dance

Author's Note: Once again, trying for some formatting...those "How To" tips can be really useful! :P Disclaimer: I own none of these characters (except Heaghir, Wyn, and Gealith, and if Tolkien wants 'em, he can have 'em ;) they all belong to JRR Tolkien.  
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That night I dressed to the nines for dinner. A flaming crimson gown that somehow didn't clash with my hair, low-cut enough to be daring, was topped off with my ultimate decadence: I let my hair fall loose and curling down my back. My father had given me a pair of dangling diamond earrings with matching necklace for my last birthday, and I wore them that evening. Still riding on a wave of indignation, I shoved my chin in the air and stepped confidently into the Hall.  
  
At first no one noticed my presence. I chanced to overhear a passing young Rider's lewd jest to a Maid, though, and my rather loud laughter caught people's attention. It was the first time I had laughed out loud in days, and I did it again just for the joy of it. After that, the room grew silent.  
  
My father came up behind me. Dryly, he said "It's about time you stopped with that idiotic act of yours and started being yourself again. Now go, enjoy yourself. I don't care who it's with, just be happy. Please." He gave me a slight push and I walked out into the center of the room.  
  
There were many handsome young men in attendance that night, and I had planned to flirt with them all just to spite the King. I looked around to find him, and finally saw Eomer and Eowyn sitting across from Faramir at a small table. The men were talking quietly and hadn't noticed me yet, but Eowyn was grinning at me from across the room. I approached them confidently.  
  
"Faramir, I don't want to tear you away from your wife, but aren't you going to ask me to dance?" I gestured to the revelers at the far end of the Hall, dancing to lively Rohirric music.  
  
Faramir looked up at me and beamed. "Well! There's the cousin I remember! You seemed so demure this morning I was beginning to think my memory was failing me. Of course I'll dance—that is, if you don't mind, Eowyn?"  
  
His wife had the look of a cat who had figured out how to get into the creamery. "Not at all, not at all. You two have fun, I'll sit here with my brother and watch you."  
  
For the first time I dared to look at Eomer. His mouth was hanging open, and his lovely hazel eyes were incredulous. I laughed again at his expression.  
  
"If your disbelief is directed at my dress, Lord Eomer, I must confess that I have run out of high-necked ones, so I had to wear this tonight."  
  
He shook his head absently, staring at me. Staring at my chest, that is. This annoyed me.  
  
"Perhaps the red makes me seem less...cold." I deliberately used the word he had so often described me with.  
  
Eomer's eyes jerked up to meet my own. I felt a jolt of something...it disturbed me, a little. Suddenly I was too warm, my heart was pounding...I felt slightly feverish, yet excited.  
  
Then Faramir claimed his dance, and I left Eomer sitting in stunned silence next to his sister. The dance was a fast one, soon over, but I found myself claimed by someone else. Eomer, of course. And I wasn't lucky enough to get two fast songs in a row—oh, no. My dance with the King of Rohan was going to be slow and agonizingly long.  
  
But what the heck. My game was up, the curtain had fallen on my act. Throwing caution to the winds, I said boldly,  
  
"I overheard your conversation with your sister this afternoon, Lord Eomer. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I was in an empty stall when you walked by the stables."  
  
He had the grace to look chagrined. "I apologize if you took offense at my remarks, Princess, but I..."  
  
I interrupted him. "There's nothing to apologize for. You said exactly what I would have wanted you to say...that was the whole point of my little farce, after all. To make you not be interested in me, I mean. It was your sister's remarks that offended me. I dressed and acted like this tonight because I don't want anyone—least of all you—to think I'm afraid of anything."  
  
"If you're not afraid of being saddled with a man you don't care for, why the charade?"  
  
Damn him for asking difficult questions! I opened my mouth to answer, but found myself at a loss for words. Finally, I replied,  
  
"It's...it's just easier, that's all. If the man doesn't ever grow fond of me, I don't ever have to say 'thank you, but no, I don't want to marry you for any reason, political or otherwise.'"  
  
He laughed. "I see. So instead of being yourself and honest, you lie to innocent men who might never have offered for you in the first place. Have you been the object of so many men's affections, then?"  
  
He thought me a tease and a flirt! I felt the cursed blush rising to my face. "It's not like that at all! I've been constantly thrust at eligible men since I was sixteen years old. Like a piece of livestock, I've been offered up to some of the most overbearing, pretentious, horrible men you can imagine. For all I knew, you might be just another one of them. But they say you don't want to marry, so I feel confident that you won't complicate my life by letting my father think you're interested in me. Will you?"  
  
Eomer studied my face for a moment. "You're not the only one being pressured to marry." He said at last. "My advisers are after me to settle down, too. It seems to me we can help each other out a bit. For as long as I appear to be courting you, Wyn and Heaghir will get off my back about finding a wife."  
  
"What's in it for me?"  
  
He grinned. No man should be allowed a smile that nice, I thought. "You father won't cart you off to some other overbearing, pretentious, horrible man! And I promise I won't offer to your father for your hand."  
  
I thought the idea over. If it worked, I would have at least a few weeks—maybe even months of freedom. If it didn't, well, would I be any worse off than I was before?  
  
"Very well." I replied. "We have a deal."  
  
And so the games began. 


	6. One fall and the start of Another

AN: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! I'm so relieved that I haven't gotten flamed yet...*knocks on wood* But don't stop ;) **Standard Disclaimer Here**  
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The next day Eomer asked me to go riding with him. I was nervous about spending so much time alone with him...but I did want to see more of Rohan, and who better to show one around a country than the king?  
  
At first we traveled in rather awkward silence, conversing politely about the weather and things like that when necessary. Eventually, though, we both opened up a little more. I learned a great deal about Eomer son of Eomund. He told me about the early deaths of his parents, how he and his sister had been raised by their uncle Théoden, and how he had become heir to the throne when his cousin had died. I sensed from the way he spoke that he did not think he was a particularly good king, but that he did the best he could because it seemed to keep the people happy.  
  
In turn I told him of my childhood following my brothers around in Dol Amroth. I related to him the story of my mother's death and how it had changed my father. When she passed away, Father became determined to see that I was raised "properly", even though there was no real female role model around. Hence the extensive etiquette lessons, and his attempts at marrying me off.  
  
"I don't see why he would think not having your mother around would make it any more difficult to raise you. After all, my sister didn't have a mother to take after, and she turned out just fine." Eomer commented.  
  
I stifled a laugh. "While I personally admire Eowyn a great deal, Eomer, most courtiers and nobles probably wouldn't consider her the perfect woman. I mean, a true Lady, to those stiff-shirts, would stay at home and embroider rather than go to war to help protect her home."  
  
Eomer pulled his horse to a stop and looked at me. "And what would you do, Princess? Would you ride into battle if your home were endangered?"  
  
I thought he was joking. "What? And wrinkle my riding habit?" I feigned indignant shock.  
  
He laughed. What a nice laugh he had, too...  
  
"I'm serious, Princess. Would you?"  
  
I hesitated. I had the strangest feeling he was testing me. "Well...I'd like to think I would. And if it came down to it, that the enemy were at the gate and a breach was imminent, I think I could find the courage to fight to the death. But I fear I lack the iron-will to follow the army outside the city to do battle."  
  
Eomer continued to study me rather oddly. There was an intensity in his hazel eyes that startled me, made me feel self-conscious. I was having trouble maintaining eye-contact with him. Suddenly he gave a curt nod.  
  
"Yes. You have courage, though you're not a warrior. Courage is needed not only in war, but in life." He nudged his horse forward and we rode alongside silently for some time.  
  
What happened next I can only blame on my pride, stupidity, and...well...stupidity. With no warning, I suddenly felt the urge to show off. Glancing briefly at Eomer, who was pensively staring off into the distance, I took a deep breath and carefully stood up on the back of my horse.  
  
It was a trick I had learned when I was the age that demands constant attention, and the only way I seemed to get it was by becoming covered in mud somehow. I still remembered the basics of it, and all appeared to be going well, so I ignored Eomer's commands to get down and urged my horse up to a faster pace. It was fantastic—the wind rushing into my face, the smooth gait of the animal underneath me...  
  
The Rohirric horse I was riding was an excellent mount. He jumped over the log in our path perfectly. It was my own stupid fault I fell off—I hadn't been paying attention to the ground, only to the sky and my own elation. I think I screamed, but I'm not sure, because as soon as I hit the ground I blacked out.  
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When I woke up, I was somewhere warm and comfortable. Keeping my eyes closed, I took a breath. It smelled like soap, horse, and something else; something nice. I tried to open my eyes then, but the blinding sunlight forced them closed again. I groaned.  
  
"Don't try to move. You hit your head. I don't think it's very bad, but I can't be sure. Just hold still for a minute." Eomer's voice came from very close by. Too close  
  
I jerked up to a sitting position and stared, ignoring the painful light. Good grief, what was I doing? I was lying in King Eomer's arms, THAT's what I was doing. He was sitting on the ground holding me. A flash of pain at the back of my head stopped me.  
  
"Ow...let me up."  
  
"No." He pulled me back down with my head against his chest. It probably would have been exceedingly comfortable, but my sense of propriety (and extreme embarrassment!) kept me stiff as a board and wouldn't let me lean up against him. "Oh, relax." He said. "I'm not THAT bad, am I?"  
  
"Let me go. I'll ride back to Edoras and get something cool to put on my head..." My voice sounded muffled from his tunic.  
  
"Shh. Rest for a minute, then we'll ride back together. I'm not risking you falling again. It's liable to start a war if Imrahil finds out."  
  
I started to protest but realized he was joking about the war. As if my father would risk lives over something as trivial as a bump on my head!  
  
Despite my protests I ended up riding back in on Eomer's horse, in from of Eomer, with both of Eomer's arms around me, and Eomer at my back yelling at me to lean against him and stop trying to be so damn prissy. His annoyance was obvious, but I had something more important on my mind.  
  
"Please don't tell anyone about me trying to stand on the back of the horse. Please! It would be so embarrassing! Just tell them the horse stumbled and I fell off."  
  
He snorted. "As if anyone's going to believe that one of the mearas just happened to stumble and throw its rider. And you weren't TRYING to stand on the horse, you WERE standing on it, till it jumped. I was quite impressed, actually...that is until you fell. Tell you what. If you quit trying to be noble and not touch me more than is necessary, I won't tell anyone about your little stunt. Deal?"  
  
"We seem to be making a lot of deals lately." I grumbled, but grudgingly allowed myself to relax.  
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When we arrived back at Meduseld, I was pampered and fussed over by maids and such until Eowyn appeared and threw them all out. She gave me a powder that dulled the pain and put me to sleep, and told me I'd be fine except for a sore body in the morning. I found out later that she was being trained as a healer in Minas Tirith.  
  
Eomer came in to check on me. By that time the powder had me feeling a little loopy.  
  
"Eomer, what kind of soap do you use?" I asked absently.  
  
He frowned at me. "Eowyn, I thought you said she was going to be fine! She's babbling!"  
  
Eowyn looked at us from across the room where she was arranging some flowers. Sounding amused, she said, "Oh, her head will be fine, no doubt about that."  
  
Eomer looked up. "What do you mean? Is she hurt somewhere else?"  
  
Eowyn put on an overly-angelic face. "Nothing. No, she's not hurt. Now out, you. Go command someone. Shoo!"  
  
The last thing I saw before I fell asleep was Eomer. 


	7. Dark and Stormy

AN: This is your warning. This story has digressed into little more than a shameless excuse for me to write fluff (not that it was ever wonderful literature to begin with, but...). If you have a problem with romance novels, stop now (although there's nothing explicit, I promise. Just little hints...). Thanks for the reviews, guys!!! I love to get them :) And to FLOR, if you're reading this- HI! Good to see a familiar screen-name around here ;) Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, places, or names related to or associated with The Lord of the Rings and am making no profit from their use.  
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"That is absolutely the last time I go riding with you," I said while trying to wring water out of my hair and dress. "First I fall off my horse, and then I get trapped in a cave during a thunderstorm."  
  
"It was your own fault you fell off your horse." Eomer pointed out. "And it's not as thought I'm enjoying this any more than you are." He continued unsaddling our horses at the far end of the cave.  
  
I glared at his back.  
  
The cave was kept stocked for such emergencies, apparently. There was plenty of wood for a fire, some musty blankets, and a bit of feed for the horses (in the form of very dodgy-looking hay bales and sacks of mixed grain). Nothing fit for human consumption, though. Typical Rohan, I thought as I started a fire.  
  
The golden-brown over-gown of my dress was soaked. Attempting to dry it, I stood near the snapping campfire and waved the skirt around a bit. It didn't seem to be succeeding in anything other than looking like an idiot. Meanwhile, Eomer had finished with the horses. He folded a blanket over a particularly ancient hay bale, sat down, and began removing his boots.  
  
"I suggest you get out of those wet clothes." He advised quite casually as he popped the left shoe off. "I wouldn't want you to catch cold and die."  
  
"What?!" As if I would sit around for Varda-knew how long with him, naked! Was he insane? Did he think I was a simpleton? Or worse—a woman of loose morals? I was just about to say something scathing about his apparent opinion of my principles when he interrupted my outraged thoughts by dramatically sighing and looking to the ceiling in askance.  
  
"Stuck in a cave with the Prissy Ice Princess."  
  
Obviously, the man knew my weak spot. I glared daggers at him again. But the wet dress WAS uncomfortable.  
  
"Turn around. And throw me a blanket!" Eomer grinned, tossed his other boot away, and obeyed my curt orders with a mock bow. "If you look, I'll tell my brothers and they'll thrash you senseless. So don't get any ideas." I began unbuttoning my gown.  
  
"Three pretty-boys from Dol Amroth? Go ahead and tell them."  
  
I threw a rock at his head.  
  
"Ow!" Alright, I will confess that that particular comment was uncalled for and most likely undeserved. My apologies, Princess." Despite his second bow (to the wall, I might add), he seemed sincere enough, so I spared him further missiles and pulled my gown over my head. Wrapping the blanket around myself, and covering anything he might find interesting, I said,  
  
"All right, you can turn around now and bent to spread my dress out on some marginally-clean boulders. When I stood again, I gasped.  
  
Eomer wasn't wearing a shirt.  
  
There is a significantly large distinction between watching your older brothers strip to practice fencing and standing in a dark cave with a shirtless, handsome young man artfully lit by firelight. Especially when you are, though you hardly admit it to yourself, unwittingly attracted to the man. A furiously beet-red blush spread over my entire body. I felt like I was on fire with embarrassment. I squeezed my eyes shut, but to no avail—it was as though his very impressive physic was burned into the back of my eyelids. Wide chest, beautiful shoulders and upper arms, flat muscled stomach...I slapped my hand over my face in an effort to banish the image but it remained. Just enough golden chest hair to be masculine, but not animalistic like some men...  
  
"Princess? Are you all right?"  
  
"Will you please put on a shirt?" My voice was strained.  
  
"It's wet."  
  
"Aren't you cold or something?"  
  
"The fire is warm enough."  
  
"You're indecent!"  
  
He sounded truly baffled. "What's wrong?"  
  
I sneaked a peek between two fingers. Bad idea. Well, he was sure right when he said the fire was warm. I was quite overheated by then.  
  
"You're sitting around half-naked as casually as if we're back at Edoras having lunch, that's what's wrong." I opened my eyes to glower at him. "How would you feel if I threw off my chemise and pranced around?"  
  
"You really don't want me to answer that question, Princess." His voice was stranger- deeper than usual. Like he'd just woken up. But he grabbed his blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders.  
  
"Fine. I'll just be uncomfortable all night. Satisfied?"  
  
"Thank you, Lord Eomer." I said primly. Sitting down on the hard ground, I searched through my saddle bags for something to eat. Or entertain myself with—it might very well be a long night.  
  
"You know, the entire purpose of our little game is to convince our countries we're considering marriage. At the very least you might simply call me Eomer."  
  
"All right." I produced my sketchbook and pencils with relief. The only problem was that Eomer was the only thing interesting enough to draw. Except for the horses, of course, but horses are difficult and I wasn't in the mood for a challenge. "Here's another deal, since you like them so much: Sit still and let me sketch you, and you may call me Lothiriel."  
  
He sat. I drew. I'm a quite amateur artist, but sketching Eomer gave me a nice excuse to look at and study him, so I took my time. The work came out very well, if I do say it myself. It was just a head-and-shoulders portrait, but I like to think I captured his brooding gaze (what did he have to brood over, anyway?), beautiful features, fire-lit eyes, and fair hair, a lock of which fell artfully across one temple. I showed it to him, and he nodded, seeming to approve.  
  
It was still raining torrents. "Now what?" I asked. "Do you know any good stories?"  
  
"I'm afraid not, Lothiriel. I know only those tales that I have lived in, and those do not bear repeating. Do you know any?"  
  
I hesitated. It was not a story I told often, but it was my favorite, because it somehow struck a chord within me. "Well...there is one. It is about how my line came to be. Would you care to hear it?" He nodded.  
  
"Long ago, when the great evil came to be in Moria, a company of Sindarin Elves set out from their homeland to cross the Sea and return to Valinor. They followed their lady Nimrodel, who was journeying to meet her lover, Amroth. But along the way their party was divided, no one knows how or why, and many were lost. Among the survivors was the Elf maid Mithrellas, who found her way to Belfalas, to the home of Imrazor.  
  
"Imrazor gave her shelter, and soon it was more than shelter, it was a home. Mithrellas ignored for a time the call of the Sea, and lived in happiness with the men of Belfalas, and eventually she married Imrazor. By all accounts he loved her deeply, and she him. They had two children, Galador and Gilmith.  
  
"Mithrellas adored her children. They were the light of her life, along with her husband. Galador took after his father, with dark hair and gray eyes, but little Gilmith looked just like her mother. She had hair like the red autumn leaves of the Northern forests, and eyes of the deepest ocean blue. Every time Mithrellas looked at her daughter, she was reminded of that which she had denounced, choosing not to cross the Sea. Yet for a time she was content.  
  
"Yet as her children grew, Mithrellas began to walk more often along the shore. She would stare into the West as the sun sank, singing strange songs in languages Imrazor could not understand. Finally, one morning he woke to find his beloved wife missing. Crying her name, he ran to the bay, but he was too late. She was gone, never to be seen in Middle Earth again.  
  
"Whether she died in the wilderness or came safely to Valinor, no one knows. But her son became the first Prince of Dol Amroth, and from Mithrellas we all are descended." I stopped. That was as much of the tale as I knew.  
  
Eomer looked at me intently. "Why do you tell such a sad tale, Lothiriel? It was well told, by the way."  
  
I squirmed. But I told him the truth with a sigh. "It is ever in my mind, Eomer. Some of the elders spread rumors that my aunt died from the sea-longing that cannot be assuaged. They say that I am the very image of Mithrellas returned again to Middle Earth, and that my face drove my mother to die from the longing as well, though she was not of the house. They whisper that I bring only heartache to those I love, and that when I marry it will awaken the sea-lust within my soul and I will perish from it like she did so many years ago." Somehow I felt as though a burden had been lifted from my chest.  
  
Eomer was thoughtful. "So that is why you do not wish to marry, then. Not only because you despise the men your father has chosen for you—though I can hardly blame you for not marrying someone you dislike—but because you fear to bring pain upon those you love, and perhaps your own death." The rain had died down while we sat inside. Not such a long storm after all, then.  
  
"I do not fear death!" I shouted at him. But it was not anger lending me such passion. The tears I wept were not of fury. "I do not fear Mithrellas—I do not fear anything!" Frantically, I untied my horse and led him to the mouth of the cave. My emotions were in turmoil, but I did not understand why.  
  
Eomer yelled right back at me. "Aye, Lothiriel, you do fear something. You fear whatever it is that you feel for me. I have seen it in your eyes, but you do not acknowledge it. You fear to love anyone because you think love will make you weak, but I tell you, Lothiriel, it will not. You have a spirit within you that makes you stronger than your aunt, stronger than your mother, and most surely stronger than Mithrellas." He tried to stop me from riding out bareback, but I eluded him.  
  
My words were heated with intensity. I think I hated him for a split second, because he had seen through me to my most highly guarded heart of hearts.  
  
"I do not love you!" I cried. Then I rode back to Edoras in the light, gray rain.  
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I wept that night. 


	8. Transitory Anguish

AN: Basically you can cut and paste whatever I said for the last chapter...  
  
Lady Scribe of Avandale: (Did I spell that right?) Yes, I know I made her ride off without clothes! I meant to put in something about Lothiriel making up a story to explain this to her father, but completely forgot about it. :P Oh, and the story is mostly from Unfinished Tales (by Tolkien, compiled by his son). The facts are, anyway. All the emotions and the "lingering effects" of the "sea-longing" are my inventions. Thanks as always for the review! And to the rest who reviewed, as well!!  
  
Jynessa: Fantasies? Me? *looks angelic* No, I wouldn't have fantasies of sitting with a shirtless Eomer in a cave in firelight, sketching him. Nope, no way, not I...;) Don't worry, the fluff continues soon!  
  
Sorry I'm too lazy to do individual replies to everybody. Plus, this chapter went up really fast...*ahem*  
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When my father asked me why I'd come riding back to Edoras in the rain the night before, wearing nothing but my chemise and a blanket, I really wanted to tell him something that would make him take me home. For instance, that Eomer had spent the day making passionate love to me out on the plains and I'd come home in a befuddled stupor. But I didn't. I told him that we'd gotten caught in the rain and I'd given my dress to a poor, starving peasant girl, and that it would feed her family for a month.  
  
Sometimes father is not the brightest of men.  
  
I related my lie at breakfast, then afterwards returned to my room to sulk some more. I was still incensed at Eomer for having the audacity to claim I was scared of some age-old tale that MIGHT be a curse. All right, so I WAS afraid. A little. But that didn't give him the right to call my bluff!  
  
I found my supposedly-sold dress carefully folded in a small box lying on my bed. Attached was a note:  
  
Lothiriel: I apologize (again) if I offended you yesterday. However, as you seem to find my presence so constantly trying to your peace of mind, I think would be best if we call off our charade of courtship. I wish you the best of luck in the future, and I sincerely hope that the man your father finally marries you to is not overbearing, pretentious, or sees behind the wall you've built around your heart.  
With what might, someday, have been love,  
Eomer  
  
I felt horrible. He loved me? The tone of the letter indicated so, yet his closing line said he only "might" have loved me "someday". Had I truly hurt him? I knew I had been rude yesterday in the cave, but he had been so cavalier! Analyzing my behaviors as though he had a right to!  
  
Who was I kidding? Not even myself, anymore. I sank down on the bed and stared up at the beautiful canopy. I had opened myself up to him, practically told him my greatest fears, and then had the audacity to lash out at him when he accepted what was virtually an invitation to get close to me. Inexcusable. A princess should be better behaved.  
  
And now I'd lost him. The only man I'd ever met who could make me laugh, cry, and blush within seconds of each other. A man who had, throughout the past week, taken every opportunity I had given him to tease me, and yet had always seen the humor when I teased him back. A man whose face tempted my dreams...someone I, too, might have loved someday.  
  
There was only one thing to do.  
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The traditional dinner-feast was the only place I could be sure of seeing Eomer without hunting for him, so I went that night, though I had previously planned to abstain. A feeling of shame was stubbornly occupying my mind, so I didn't notice what the maids were doing to me until they started to push me out the door and I realized what I was wearing.  
  
THE gown. The silvery one that my brothers said made me look like a mermaid, and strangers said made me look like an immortal Elf. Loosely fitted, it clung in some places, skimmed the skin in others, always hinting, never blatantly stating. My hair was loose again, in ringlets down my back. A silver swan pendant hung at my throat, for Dol Amroth.  
  
Oh, great. Let's not be too obvious, Lothiriel, I told myself. But it was too late to change: I had no choice but to continue to the Hall. So I did, stepping over to the table where Eomer was usually seated.  
  
He was there tonight, as was his custom. As was not his custom, he was flanked by two golden-haired girls, obviously of high rank. He was smiling, and the woman on his right said something that made him throw his head back and laugh. He lightly touched her arm, then turned to the other woman.  
  
A shaft of pain, bitter cold, shot through my stomach. Suddenly there was a lump in my throat; I couldn't speak to the man offering to escort me to my seat. Not taking my eyes from Eomer, I leaned backwards into a carven column and sank my weight against it. My head ached, the determination that had carried me into the room faded away to cold nothingness.  
  
He didn't care anymore. He obviously never had, or he wouldn't have moved on to other marital prospects so soon. Any feelings I had sensed in his note had been entirely my own doing, not anything meant by him.  
  
For a moment, I felt defeated.  
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AN: yeah, yeah, I know. BORING chapter, but what can I say. It's transitory! I promise, more fun is coming! Now hit that REVIEW button! G'wan, you know you want to! It's calling to you... 


	9. Something Interesting Finally Happens Bu...

AN: WOW. I can't believe I'm on chapter 9 already! My, my, time does fly. I know the last chapter kind of sucked, but I threw it out there to get it out of the way so I could move on to this more interesting (hopefully!) one. My usual disclaimer: I own none of this. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Tolkien retains the rights to it all, wherever he may be.  
  
Eokat: You're absolutely right. Of course Eomer would know lots of good stories! What was I thinking? Only of the plot of my fic, and not of what would actually have happened. I promise to go back and work something in if I can think of anything. Thanks :)  
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Then Eomer looked up. Across the hall our eyes met, and it was like they say in the great love stories of bygone days: time stood still. For a split second, we were the only two people in the room. My pain-filled eyes searched his for a sign, a hint that he might care for me. He stared at me, but did he not see my sorrow? For after the moment had passed, he only nodded at me and turned back to the women seated with him.  
  
"My Lady? May I escort you to a seat at the table?" The Rohirrim captain peered down at me as he repeated his offer of service. He was older than me, but still quite young, handsome in the standard blonde Rohan way, with icy blue eyes.  
  
"Certainly." I politely took his arm and allowed him to guide me towards the table, but didn't sit down next to him right away. "Pardon me, sir, but I must have a word with the King before I dine." Despite his apparent disinterest in me now, I still owed Eomer an apology. With my back so stiff I felt it might break, and my jaw clenched equally tightly, I approached him. He rose when I drew near, as etiquette demanded.  
  
"My Lord, I owe you an apology for my behavior yesterday afternoon. It was inexcusable, but I was not myself." I spoke briefly and impersonally. Inclining my head, I retreated back to the captain. He was waiting for me.  
  
Captain Laethus was a pleasant enough dinner companion. Desperate for something to distract me from the sight of Eomer with two other women at the head of the table, I threw myself into the conversation, talking animatedly and hardly taking my eyes off the Captain. I flirted outrageously, hoping to take my mind off of Eomer.  
  
The King himself left after another hour or so, presumably taking one of the blonde women for a stroll outside in the cool night air. I noticed she had brown eyes. I had always wanted brown eyes, and was forever jealous of women who had them, but I was more envious of her grip on Eomer's arm. Hussy.  
  
I talked to Laethus for quite a while, but the crowd had not yet begun to disperse when I declared my intention to retire. I rose, surprised to feel Laethus' hand on my arm.  
  
"I shall escort you to your room, Lothiriel." He said looking at me with those pale eyes of his. When had I given him permission to use my name? Still, my room wasn't far, what harm could it do for him to walk with me? I hesitated, but consented.  
  
As we left the Hall, his ever-tightening grip on my elbow began to make me uneasy. The passageway was unusually dark. One of the torches must have gone out. No one else was to be seen nearby. My heart began beating faster with nervousness...nonsense, I thought, shaking it off. Soon we reached my door. I opened it and turned to bid Laethus goodnight.  
  
"Thank you, captain. Good evening." Before I could close the door, Laethus pushed me backwards into my chamber. By the time my immediate shock wore off and I shoved at him to get him away, he had me pinned to the bed and the door kicked shut and bolted.  
  
"Get off me, you scum! What do you think you're doing?" I frantically beat at him, but he grabbed my hands and held me still with the suffocating weight of his body.  
  
His laugh, that I had thought perfectly cultured and charming earlier, now sounded coarse and ugly. "You can't flirt with a man all night and not expect the consequences, Princess." He said my title like an insult. "You wanted it all along, and now you're going to get it. Hold still or it'll be worse for you." But I didn't stop struggling. My temper was overcoming my fear and shock, and I shouted at him.  
  
"You bastard! You pretentious bottom-dwelling pirate looting FILTH! Get—Off—Of—Me!" Then I screamed with all my might.  
  
He cut me off with a hard backhanded blow across my face. I gasped. "Shut up." He growled, fumbling with his tunic. I screamed again.  
  
The door burst from the wall with an unbelievable crash. Laethus was torn from his place atop me and slammed into the wall. It was Eomer! Where had he come from? I didn't think I'd screamed THAT loudly...  
  
I was soon distracted by the sight of Eomer pounding the life out of my attacker. He punched Laethus squarely in the jaw, hauled him back up and did it again and again. Then he beat his head against the wall several times. Laethus gasped for mercy. Eomer let him fall to the floor and turned to me briefly.  
  
"Did he touch you?" I had never heard such a tone in any man's voice and I do not wish to ever hear it again. I shook my head mutely. "Wait here. I'll be back in a moment. I have some filth to dispose of." With that Eomer grabbed the back of Laethus' collar and dragged him out of the room. I followed at a cautious distance. He didn't honestly think I was going to let him go kill Laethus, did he?  
  
Much as he might have wanted to kill him, though, Eomer had other plans for the errant captain. Hauling Laethus out into the great Hall he stopped in front of the open double doors and faced the crowd. Jerking the man's head up by the hair, he addressed the people.  
  
"A trusted Captain of the Mark has tonight disgraced his country, his family, and himself. He has preyed upon an innocent woman and has shown himself undeserving of a place in my home. Let him be cast out!" Eomer took Laethus' sword from its scabbard and swatted the former Captain thrice across the backside with the flat side of it. He once more hauled the man up, but this time threw him out the doors and kicked him down the stairs.  
  
From the shadows where I hid, I judged this to be some ancient custom of disposing of offending residents of Meduseld. Eowyn stood, walked to the doors, and spat down upon Laethus' cowering body. Several others did the same. I saw Eomer turn to come back down the hallway, so I fled back to my room.  
  
Seeing the destruction of my door (and several other odds and ends Eomer had broken with his impassioned intervention) brought the panic, fear, and anger all back to me. What if Laethus had succeeded? What if I hadn't been able to fight him off? Eomer reentered the room and approached me. I began breathing too fast (what if I had been raped? What if he had gone so far as to kill me afterwards?).  
  
"This is all YOUR fault!" I shouted at Eomer. "You and your stupid note, making me fall in love with you and then flirting with two—TWO!—other women right in front of me! It's your fault I sat with him! Goodness knows I probably flirted with him only to make YOU jealous, but did you come and talk to me? NO! Not a word! And look what almost happened!" I burst into tears.  
  
I felt Eomer enfold me in his strong arms. He murmured soft words as I continued my tirade, though I no longer made any sense. I slowly calmed down. He rubbed circles on my back and rocked me back and forth.  
  
"Better?" I sniffed and nodded. "Good. Then come with me. You can't stay here tonight, and your father won't find out about this until morning. You'll stay in my room tonight."  
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AN: Now, if THAT doesn't get at least ONE person up in arms about my cutting off chapters just when things get interesting, I am an utter failure as an author and will surrender my keyboard. (OK, not really. I'm addicted, what can I say?) Don't worry, next chapter coming soon....stay tuned! ;) 


	10. Confessions and Kissing

AN: Well, here it is, the beginning of the end. Not THE end, but the beginning of it. Reviewers, I love you all!! *I disclaim everything*  
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"Your room?" I started to draw back but Eomer kept a firm grip around my waist.  
  
"My room. Don't worry, I won't be there. We're out of guest rooms, though, because of the Dol Amroth emissaries and my sister's visit. I'll sleep in the stables and you can use my chamber. Do you need anything out of here?" I shook my head. "Then let's go. You've had quite a scare and you need to rest."  
  
"Wait. What happened to 'I think we should cancel our deal'? Aren't you angry with me?" I wanted to ask about the women at dinner, but bit my tongue.  
  
Eomer smiled. "Lothiriel, has anyone ever told you that you have a tendency to overreact?" He asked kindly.  
  
I opened my mouth for a second, then closed it. I was at a loss as to how I could deny his statement without proving him right. So I simply answered the question.  
  
"Well, yes. My father, my brothers...even my mother, when I was small. What does my overreacting have to do with anything?"  
  
He sighed. "I was never mad at you, Lothiriel, just disappointed that you didn't seem to return my more-than-friendly feelings for you. Seeing you and knowing you would never love me would have been too painful, so I tried to break things off. I'm sorry if I hurt you." Eomer gently pulled me out the door and down the hall. I followed him automatically, but my mind was elsewhere.  
  
He loved me! My head and heart reeled with the knowledge. Had he heard my confession of love for him when he had comforted me earlier? He must have, that was the only explanation for his sudden willingness to declare his feelings. Yet he had made no demands of me, simply stated the news and moved on.  
  
We soon reached Eomer's chamber. It was much larger than mind, but less ornately furnished. The bed was gigantic, thrown with blankets and furs. There was a large fireplace opposite it, and a door presumably led to a washroom. The walls were paneled wood, plain except for a carved hunting scene across the top where they met the low ceiling. Eomer stepped over and lit the small lamp on the bedside table, then went to stir up the fire.  
  
"I'll have a servant bring bath-water and your clothes, and if you don't rise too early I'll even explain to your father why you've relocated." He rose from the hearth as I sat on the edge of the bed. He opened the door and turned to go. "Goodnight, Lothiriel." He said with a smile, and started to close the door behind him.  
  
"Eomer, wait." He looked back at me while I hesitated. "I meant what I said earlier. I love you." Staring straight into his eyes, I continued, "You don't have to go."  
  
Eomer merely stood there in the doorway for a moment. Then he asked, cautiously, "Are you sure? What about Mithrellas?" He took a step toward me.  
  
"It still frightens me a little, but...oh, Eomer, I'm willing to risk it." Standing, I walked over to him. He took my hands in his and kissed them softly, and I nearly melted on the spot.  
  
"Then Lothiriel, will you do me the honor of wedding me? For I love you with all the love I never thought to give to anyone." Eomer's eyes had turned a dark, intense green.  
  
"Yes." I smiled at him. There was a moment of silence, then he kissed me. I had never been kissed before, but I wasn't disappointed. Everything I had heard about happened: I grew light headed, my knees went week, a glorious lazy heat curled through my veins, excitement pooled in my stomach. Just as I was about to succumb completely to passion, I pulled back.  
  
"Wait. What about the women you were flirting with at dinner? Was it just to make me jealous? Because it worked."  
  
Eomer chuckled softly and nuzzled my neck below the ear. "Heaghir's daughters. I think of them as extra sisters."  
  
I tried to keep my mind on the conversation, but he'd begun sweeping his hands up and down my back. "Oh, well, in that case...I suppose I'll...just have to...not be jealous...won't I?"  
  
"Lothiriel?"  
  
"Yes, Eomer?"  
  
"Do you really want me to stay? Because you've got to know what will happen if I do." He looked at my seriously for a moment.  
  
"Yes, I really, really want you to stay." I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.  
  
We fell onto the bed. I won't go into detail about what happened that night, but suffice it to say it was like nothing I had ever imagined or hoped for.  
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AN: Yes, it's me again. I still have another couple of chapters to write, but it may be awhile because I have to work tomorrow and take the ACT Saturday and I'm sure my brain will be too fried from that to write anything. So if this doesn't satisfy you, you'll just have to wait. They may end up being boring windy-down chapters, they may not. We'll see :) Thanks as always to my reviewers, even though I'm not addressing all of you here. Lady Scribe of Avandell: Sorry I spelled your name wrong!!! My abject apologies. Klaw: You're right, I do tend to overreact! It's art imitating life, I confess. I'll try to do better :) 


	11. Abounding Fluff

Author's Note: Well! Maybe I'll just wait longer between updates from now on! I seem to get more reviews that way ;) Thanks and hugs to all of you!  
  
Disclaimer: All the characters, names, places, and other things related to LOTR used in the story below are the property of JRR Tolkien and the Tolkien estate. I wish I could make money off of it, but don't worry, I'm not. New Line cinema is, though. Go them!  
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The next morning I woke to the warmth of sunlight falling on my closed eyelids. I started to pull the blankets up over my face and go back to sleep, but something was pinning them down. I tugged harder but nothing happened. Irritated, I sat up and blearily surveyed the problem.  
  
The sheets were tangled around a pair of legs, the blanket was lying half off the bed, and the beautiful green and gold quilt was draped upside down over a very male chest. King Eomer of Rohan was sprawled next to me, completely naked.  
  
I shook myself out of my sleepiness immediately. In a flash, I remembered the events of the night before. In another flash, I began blushing. The question now, I mused while looking down at Eomer's handsome sleeping face, was how to handle the relationship from this point on.  
  
Would he want me to leave and pretend like nothing had happened? Stay and make love once more before going about our business? Conduct a clandestine affair beneath my father's nose? Proclaim our love from the highest rooftop in Edoras? What if he no longer wanted to marry me?  
  
A breath of air circulated from somewhere and I realized that I, too, was unclothed. Modestly, I wrapped the blanket around myself and leaned back against the pillow.  
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The second time I woke, it was to the very pleasant sensation of Eomer kissing me. I smiled and returned the gesture, then opened my eyes. He was leaning over me, grinning down at my mussed hair and half-opened eyes. I yawned.  
  
"What time is it?" I started to sit up again but instead found myself pulled up against Eomer. He started to kiss me again.  
  
"No doubt past time to get up." I tried to pull away.  
  
"Eomer, I have to go. If anyone finds us, my father will probably try to kill you, and I really don't want him to die of a heart attack from over- exertion."  
  
He snorted. "Your father has the heart of a man half his age. He wouldn't try to kill me, he *would* kill me. You simply had to remind me about Imrahil, didn't you? He could be a problem. What if he doesn't approve our marriage?"  
  
I shrugged. "Do you have an aversion to elopement?" Eomer glared at me, and I grinned. "Really, Eomer. My father brought me here for the express purpose of getting me to flirt with and marry you. Do you honestly think he would oppose our union now?" I kissed him quickly—or meant to, anyway. The kiss turned into a /i, our embrace turned more passionate, and something far more interesting than an early-morning discussion of marital possibilities probably would have occurred if a knock had not at that moment sounded on the door.  
  
Eomer and I both raised our heads to look at the door, then at each other. I felt his muscles tense up. Still looking at me, he called out,  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"Your very pregnant sister who doesn't like to be kept waiting." Eomer gave me an apologetic look, flipped the quilt over my head and went to answer the door. Through a gap between folds of fabric I saw him stoop to pull on his breeches, then he opened the door a mere crack, blocking Eowyn's view of me with his body.  
  
"Yes, Eowyn?" She attempted to peer past him into the room.  
  
"I just thought that as your loving, caring sister," Eomer laughed once but was stared into submission. "I should warn you that Prince Imrahil is looking for you. Apparently his daughter isn't in her room and now he can't find her and...Oh, dear, here he comes!" Eowyn shoved Eomer back into the room and latched the door behind her as she raced in. Immediately she began throwing things around and giving orders.  
  
"Eomer, put your shirt on and for goodness' sake comb your hair or something. Lothiriel, I brought you this. Yank it over your head and wrap the scarf around your hair." Eowyn handed me a loose brown tunic-style dress that belted high across the waist. I quickly pulled it on and wrapped the accompanying shawl over my tousled hair, then went to help Eowyn furiously remake the bed. "Now, then, he'll be here any second. Lothiriel, you spent the night here because your door was broken. I was in here helping you get ready for a trip to the market when Eomer stopped by to make sure you slept all right." I grabbed my silver dress off the floor and shoved it under the bed.  
  
"Lothiriel! I know you're in there! Now unlock this door. I want an explanation, and it had better be a good one." Father sounded more than a little angry. Knowing there was no point in stalling him, I went to open the door. He burst into the room immediately and looked suspiciously at Eowyn and I. Then, with something like triumph in his eyes he confronted Eomer.  
  
"Ah HA! So you ARE here! I didn't think you'd have the courage to stand in front of me and confess to having seduced my daughter but I'm pleased to see you do. But I am disappointed in you, Eomer. I expected more honor in the Rohirrim." I could see that Eomer was having difficulty smothering the urge to be 'honorable' and tell the truth, so I intervened before he did something disastrous.  
  
"Father, whatever are you talking about?" I calmly took his arm and began pulling him out of the room. "Honestly, you jump to conclusions much too easily. After that horrid man attacked me last night, Eomer showed true chivalry and kindly offered me the use of his room. Then he stopped by this morning after Eowyn came to talk to me to make sure I had slept all right. Why, we couldn't ask for a more generous host!"  
  
My father raised one eyebrow suspiciously. "Lothiriel, are you telling me the truth, or are you trying to protect this man?" I opened my mouth but he stopped me. "No, don't answer that. You obviously love him too much to admit to fabricating a story, and if by chance you're telling the truth it doesn't matter anyway."  
  
This was too easy. What was he plotting?  
  
"I will, however, expect your formal offer of marriage by no later than this evening, my Lord Eomer."  
  
My jaw dropped. "Father! What on earth...You can't just order a man to make an offer or marriage! For all you know Eomer doesn't even want to marry me!"  
  
Father looked exasperated. "Oh, don't' be ridiculous, Lothiriel. It's completely obvious to everyone in this Hall that you two fell in love, had a quarrel, then made up tonight—though exactly how you made up I don't in the least want to know."  
  
Obvious? I looked at Eowyn for confirmation and she nodded sheepishly. Somewhat disgruntled, I fell silent. Then Eomer spoke up.  
  
"I will not deny that I am in love with your daughter. Nor will I deny that I spent the night in this room with her last night." Wonderful, Eomer, I thought sarcastically. Just give him another reason to send me back to Dol Amroth.  
  
"However, I have no intention of requesting her hand in marriage."  
  
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AN: Go on! Review! 


	12. What You've Been Waiting For Maybe

Author's Note: Muahahaha!! Oh, I love you guys. Really, I do. I especially love the number of panicked reviews I got, threatening me with various tortures if I didn't make Eomer marry Lothiriel. Well, have no fear. All will be made clear below :) **Standard Disclaimer**  
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I gaped at Eomer. Eowyn gaped at Eomer. Father glared at Eomer.  
  
"What do you mean you have no intention of marrying her? You dishonorable coward! You led my daughter to believe you loved her, seduced her and used her, and now you're refusing to marry her? I'll have your head! Aye, and if it means war then it means war. I will not allow my one and only daughter to be so slandered!" Father reached for his sword, but found he wasn't wearing one. Growling, he searched for something heavy to pound Eomer with.  
  
"I think you misunderstand me, sir." Eomer said, attempting to restrain his grin. "I will without a doubt marry Lothiriel. I simply will not ask you for your permission. You see, I gave her my word several days ago (when she could barely stand me) that I would never offer for her hand in marriage, and I have no intention of backing out of that promise. Lothiriel agreed last night to my proposal, and frankly sir, that's all the permission I need." He turned an unsure face to me and took my hands. "You haven't changed your mind, have you, love?"  
  
In answer, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. Before things could get interesting, unfortunately, I was dragged off of my fiancé by my still-irate father.  
  
"It's disrespect, that's what it is. In my day no one would have dared." He grumbled to himself and adjusted the shawl around my hair. Then Father spoke up.  
  
"I can see that Lothiriel would be distressed if I killed you, so I shall refrain—for now. However!" His voice grew threatening. "If I hear so much as a whisper of a rumor that you two have been up to any more....undisciplined behavior...before you're properly wedded in Dol Amroth, I'll double your engagement time!" He glared at both of us until we nodded. Clearing his throat, he finished "Now that that's been settled...Eomer, OUT! Lothiriel, there will be a meeting to discuss the preparations for a State wedding this evening, and you will be formally announced at dinner."  
  
Eomer allowed himself to be marched out of the room. He gave me a half-amused, half-regretful look over his shoulder just before he left, and I knew that he didn't want to be separated from me anymore than I did. The door closed behind Father. I stared at it for a moment, lost in thought.  
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Eowyn coughed pointedly and I realized she was still standing next to Eomer's—our?—bed. The thought made me blush.  
  
"Uh...Lady Eowyn, if you don't mind my asking, how exactly did you know about our, um, circumstances?"  
  
Eowyn smiled and rested a hand on her rounded stomach. "I was raised here, Lothiriel. I've been hearing gossip and listening behind closed doors my entire life, and living somewhere else doesn't change the fact that I know everything that goes on in this Hall. Of course, it helps that you and Eomer weren't exactly, er, discreet."  
  
I blushed. For the first time it occurred to me that any number of people had seen Eomer's scene of banishing Laethus and that those same people had all probably noticed the King giving me his room for the night. Undoubtedly, they had also observed the King NOT leave his chamber again. Wincing, I sank down on the bed and buried my face in my hands.  
  
"How mortifying! The entire populace will know of my behavior...I'll never fit in here now! They probably think me a loose woman, not fit to be Queen of Rohan." My thoughts rambled. Would they scorn me? What of the children? What if someone, from my reputation, should suggest they were illegitimate? How awful if they should someday be denied their rightful places!  
  
The sound of Eowyn's laughter brought me back to the present. "Oh, Lothiriel," She chuckled, sitting down beside me and putting an arm around my slumped shoulders. "Don't worry! If anything, this little adventure will only convince the people that you possess the spirit and heart to help rule them. If you and Eomer weren't to be wed, well, they might look on things a little differently, but as it is, in their eyes you've made your commitment to each other. All that's lacking is the public exchange of vows." With those reassuring words, Eowyn stood up (slowly and with many huffs and puffs!) and held out a hand to me. "Now let's go get breakfast."  
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	13. Epilogue

AN: *sniffles and tears* This is it! The end! I have really enjoyed writing this story, and I hope some of you have enjoyed reading it as much! Be afraid, though: I'm sure I'll start another one soon....;)  
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We were married one month later in Dol Amroth. It was a ridiculously short engagement, for a State marriage at least, but I wouldn't let Father force me into a longer wait. In a small gazebo on the palace deck overlooking the sea, Eomer and I pledged ourselves to a life of love, respect, and fidelity together. The silver blue swans of my country flew in the breeze, but the green banners of Rohan were to be seen as well.  
  
Also present were Faramir, Eowyn, and their beautiful new baby boy. Faramir had opposed the somewhat strenuous journey from Edoras to Dol Amroth so soon after the birth, but Eowyn had insisted, and being back to her normal routine (minus the inevitable interruptions a child causes) within a week, got her way.  
  
King Elessar and Queen Arwen Undomiel were in attendance as well. They both gave their wholehearted approval of our alliance and bestowed many hugs, kisses, and gifts upon us all.  
  
Wyn devoted himself to our fine Gondorian wine selection and praised the future of trade with our city. Heaghir discussed martial strategies with my brothers, far into the night (or so I've been told. Eomer and I were long gone by then). Laethus was, according to rumor, somewhere in Rohan working as a goatherd  
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"Eomer, I have something to tell you."  
  
"Hmm?" He was busily trying to unlace my elaborate wedding gown. I stilled his hands and made him look me in the eyes.  
  
"In approximately eight months you're going to be a father." I burst into a smile. Keeping the secret to myself for the past several days had been nearly impossible...but what better wedding present to give than a child?  
  
Eomer just stared at me, his mouth slightly open. "Wh...wh...well...are you sure? I mean...oh, Lothiriel!" He pulled me tight into an embrace and kissed me.  
  
And that is how I found the courage to love and be loved.  
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AN: Really melodramatic ending, I know. But I had to tie the title in somewhere, didn't I? 


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